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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214288">brace for the goodbye</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidbrewer/pseuds/davidbrewer'>davidbrewer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>David Rose Deserves Nice Things, During Canon, During S5, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, It's an unfortunate reality, M/M, but David Rose doesn't believe he deserves nice things, but before MTP</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 13:08:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,769</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214288</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/davidbrewer/pseuds/davidbrewer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>David’s reaction probably seemed disproportionate — nothing new for him, if he’s being honest — but Patrick said the one word that pushed every, single one of his buttons. Difficult. He was being difficult. Fuck, how many times had he heard that fucking word in the midst of a breakup? He’s been too difficult to live with, too difficult to work with, too difficult to put up with… too difficult to love.</i>
</p><p>OR: After David and Patrick argue about a clash with one of their vendors, David has to face his insecurities head-on... and so does Patrick.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer &amp; David Rose, Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>215</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>brace for the goodbye</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is literally based on a Taylor Swift bridge that I heard for the first time in years and... got in my head about it. </p><p>Thanks to Ally (maxbegone) for helping me wrap my head around what I wanted to do here. This is only my second fic and I'm still just getting back into writing again after, like, five years... so be gentle (but also feel free to be honest). </p><p>I wouldn't be doing this at all without the support and encouragement from my BBs. Ya'll know who you are. Thank you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“You’re asking too much of our vendors. I know you want things to be a certain way, but it doesn’t always work like that, David! You can’t be so difficult.”</em>
</p><p><em>“Well, if I’m just being so </em>difficult <em>right now, I’ll just get out of your way.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“David, that’s not fair— Where are you going?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The door slams behind David’s back and he winces — both at the sound itself and the realization of what he’s done. He squints his eyes closed and tries to wipe the image of Patrick’s stunned face from the forefront of his mind. David doesn’t want to remember that. He doesn’t want to remember the way his expressive brown eyes had <em>screamed </em>in the silence, or the surprised ‘o’ of his lips. </p><p>He doesn’t want to remember how <em>small </em>Patrick’s voice was when he’d said, <em>“that’s not fair,”</em> or when he’d asked, <em>“Where are you going?” </em>Fuck, even the memory makes his stomach twist and it happened less than two minutes ago.</p><p>David’s reaction probably seemed disproportionate — nothing new for him, if he’s being honest — but Patrick said the one word that pushed every, single one of his buttons. Difficult<em>.</em> He was being <em>difficult.</em> Fuck, how many times had he heard that fucking word in the midst of a breakup? He’s been too difficult to live with, too difficult to work with, too difficult to <em>put up</em> with… too difficult to love.</p><p>He’d heard it from exes, from his family — even from Stevie, once, before she’d realized the word was like a trigger that pushed against the most sensitive parts of his heart. Hearing it from Patrick, though… That was a whole other kind of pain. Because Patrick was different. Patrick was special. Patrick saw something in him that nobody else did.</p><p>Just now, it felt like he finally saw what everyone else always had<em>.</em></p><p>It felt like a domino was kicked over. Patrick saw how impossible he is to deal with and now David can see the expiration date on everything they have. This is step one. But he knows what it's put into motion. He’s been here so many times.</p><p>So, yes, David left before it went too far — before Patrick got the chance to hurl his own scathing words in response, like David was oh-so-used to. He left before Patrick could tell him to get out, that they’re done, that he wished he’d never met him. He shut the door before he could tell David that he’s suing him for full ownership of the store, and… re-stocking it entirely with sports supplies and camping gear… or something.</p><p>He’s heard most of those things before, but he actually feels the strength of them when he imagines them coming from Patrick. </p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>It was only a matter of time before this happened, anyway. David knew it from the beginning, and he’s never been so disappointed to be <em>right </em>as the crash of the door echoes in his ears. He’s never held something precious in his hands without cracking it right open, has he? It’s always been easier than letting someone crack <em>him </em>open again.</p><p>Or… That’s what he’d always thought.</p><p>Push them away before they can leave you. It’s been a foolproof method so far.</p><p>But David doesn’t feellike he dodged a bullet; he usually does when he slams the door first. For the first time, he feels like <em>he </em>is the bullet. </p><p>No, not a bullet — a grenade. Not just deadly, but destructive. </p><p>A horrible, catastrophic grenade… <em>without his own car</em>. It hits him when he gets to the parking lot. <em>Fuck. </em>He doesn’t want to call an Uber and risk being subjected to horrible small talk, but walking all the way back to the motel sounds… absolutely ridiculous. Calling his family doesn’t feel like an option, either, because they’re bound to ask an absurd number of questions, but… they’re bound to do that anyway, aren’t they? His sister sleeps four feet from him, for fuck’s sake. </p><p>One more time: <em>Fuck.</em></p><p>He <em>can </em>call Stevie, technically.</p><p>She’s proven that she can <em>occasionally</em> show genuine mercy and sympathy… Maybe, if he cries a bit, she’ll get uncomfortable enough to skip the third-degree until morning and let him sob himself to sleep on her couch in peace. Stevie is about as proficient in the spectrum of human emotion as he is. She’ll probably leave him alone.</p><p>At least until morning, David doesn’t want to say the words out loud.</p><p>He doesn’t want to admit that he’s destroyed the only relationship that’s evermade him feel safe. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s finally pushed Patrick away, but only after he’d already let him past his walls. How does he explain that he wants to re-cement the concrete around his heart, but it’s not solidifying like it's supposed to? What remains of his armor is slipping through his hands like water.</p><p>David has no one to blame but himself.</p><p>He’s pulling his phone from his pocket to call his best friend when:</p><p>“David!”</p><p>Patrick’s voice <em>startles </em>him.</p><p>When David turns, Patrick is making a beeline for him. He’s wearing his hideous hiking boots withhis plaid pajama bottoms, which David thinks may be the most incorrect thing he’s ever seen — second only to someone like Patrick running after someone like him. David has had this fight so many times before, but this is an alternate ending if he’s ever seen one. Incorrect or not, Patrick walks through the grass to meet him at the edge of the street.</p><p> “David,” he says his name again, this time significantly softer, and folds his arms over his chest. “Will you please come back inside? We can talk in the morning.”</p><p>Those aren’t the words David expects and he just looks at him, his chest burning. Is this heartburn? Is there such a thing as emotional heartburn? What about an emotion-driven heart attack? Whatever it is, he thinks he might be dying.</p><p>“Is that really what you want?”</p><p>“David, I don’t know what you think just happened,” he says, “but one fight doesn’t mean I want you to leave.”</p><p>He swallows, his chest releasing its death-grip on his heart in favor of a vague, non-life-threatening tightness. For now.</p><p>“Even though I’m being… difficult?”</p><p>“David, we’re going to have difficultconversations sometimes — when are you going to learn that I’m not one of those peoplefrom your past?” </p><p>He feels nakedin the middle of the street; David still hasn’t gotten used to being seenlike this. He’s not sure he ever will.</p><p>David’s voice full-on crackslike a teenager in puberty when he blurts, almost too loudly: “I don’t know, Patrick! Maybe never.”</p><p>Patrick pauses. “So, what, you’re just never going to trust me?”</p><p>“It’s not about you!”</p><p>“Yeah?” Patrick sounds indignant. “It feels like it’s a little bit about me.”</p><p>David takes a deep breath through his nose and turns back to Patrick. The earnestness in his eyes makes it even harder to look into them. There’s a small voice that reminds him, if they’re going to talk about what either of them deserves<em>, </em>Patrick doesn’t deserve this; he doesn’t deserve to be a casualty in David’s war with himself. </p><p>For the first time, David realizes that the possibility of <em>hurting Patrick</em> might be worse than being hurt <em>by </em>Patrick. Being rejected by someone so good<em>, </em>he’d always thought, would prove that he doesn’t deserve someone like that — could neverdeserve someone like that. But, as David relents and meets Patrick’s gaze, he thinks that, maybe, hurting him is exactly how he proves that theory right.</p><p>That’s not how he wants to lose him.</p><p>So, when David says, “It’s not,” his voice softens. “It’s really not that I don’t trust you, okay? It’s that I don’t trust <em>me. </em>To, like…” He chews on his bottom lip, weighing his next words carefully. “It’s just that I never thought I’d havethis, and I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I deserve it. I don’t know how to stop just… waiting for the other foot to drop.”</p><p>“Shoe,” Patrick says with a soft smile. “The other <em>shoe </em>to drop.”</p><p>David fixes him with a glare, but the fond twitch of his lips betrays him. “<span class="pwa-mark decorator">Mmkay</span>, you knew what I meant.” He huffs it more than he <em>says </em>it.</p><p>“Yeah, I put it together,” Patrick teases, but his expression shifts to something much more serious in what feels like a millisecond. He steps forward again, putting his hands on either side of David’s face. (David thinks he mustfeel the way his face warms.) “You deserve to be happy,” he says, voice something akin to <em>stern. </em>“I know you’ve been led to believe that you don’t, and I can’t change your past… but I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it. I’m not going anywhere.” </p><p>David is full-on crying now, and he has to look away as the tears spill over. Of course, Patrick isn’t having that, so he moves his head to follow David’s — his smaller stature makes it easier — and David reluctantly meets his eyes again.</p><p>…But not before notices something: Patrick’s boots are untied. Parts of his pant legs are tucked into the boots haphazardly, too, as if he’d pulled them on in a rush.</p><p>
  <em>(Does that mean he’s not wearing socks? That would launch this whole ensemble beyond incorrect and into midnight-at-Walmart territory.)</em>
</p><p>Still, David pictures Patrick back at his apartment, throwing his shoes on as he rushed to chase David out to the street. The thought makes one corner of his lips tug upward, just slightly, because he thinks that, under different circumstances, that scene would be adorable… and it’s the only time anyone has ever done something like that for him.</p><p>Wait. No, it’s not the only time, because this is the second time <em>Patrick, </em>specifically, has done this. The first was after the barbecue. Patrick literally chased him back to the motel room, and then he chased him with thoughtful gifts… but, this time, it’s Davidwho’s messed up, and here Patrick is. Again.</p><p>Not letting him go.</p><p>It’s… a lot.</p><p>He says, “I can’t believe you followed me out here.”</p><p>Patrick smiles as he wipes the tears from David’s face. “Yeah, next time, I’d prefer you didn’t storm out and make me chase after you in my pajamas, by the way.”</p><p>“Mm, actually, while we’re on the subject… Have I ever mentioned these mountaineering boots are even more incorrect when you throw plaid into the ensemble?”</p><p>His boyfriend laughs softly. “We do what we have to do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://davidbrewer.tumblr.com">I also do the Tumblr thing</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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